Doubting the Choice
by playwithfire97
Summary: "Elena doesn't want Stefan with her tonight. Maybe she doesn't even want me. But it's enough. This time, Elena has to learn the hard way. Like, Stefan-being-hard way. I stifle a hysterical laugh at the idea." Damon's had just about enough of Elena's choices - and it's obvious Elena has too. SEASON 4 Delena. Rating will change to M.


**I'm BACK! Wow… what a premiere. Def left me with some inspiration for a brand new fic! This one will be (of course) Delena, and it will follow the show's storyline. This is a rough first chapter because I sort of hashed it out and just had to put it up to get feedback. REVIEWS ARE LOVE.**

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I can hear them. Giggling on the roof. The sound grates against my ears and I try to focus on chopping this damn vegetable. It's green, round, cuts through easily - I'm not sure what it is, though, because my eyes fucking useless against the onslaught of emotions my mind decided to give me today. Elena laughs. He's slipping something on her finger - I can hear the friction when I really listen. Not that I'm really listening. No. Not at all. I hear something crack from under my hands.

Oh woop-de-fucking-doo. I broke the cutting board.

With a sigh so full of angst Jeremy might have been the one to do it, I send the cutting board clattering into the Gilbert's trash can, along with the vegetable. I don't even know why I was cutting that thing in the first place. Damon's bright ideas number fifty-six.

And, if you ask me (nobody did), I have the best ideas out of anyone in this backwater dying town. Sometimes I feel like the only sane one here - thus making me the only insane one here. Like I toddle out in a white hospice dress every now and then to give my two cents and everybody pushes me back into a round room. Then I go sit in the corner for a little bit and - fuck, round rooms don't have corners. My god. I'm loosing it.

I clench my fists and lean against Elena's counter when I hear them kiss. I am loosing it. I can't loose it. Stefan is up in la-la-land planning the next 1,000 years of his life with Elena and I'm down here in the kitchen like a domestic god, planning how to get through the next day.

A brief image flashes in front of my mind like it's done a thousand times before: Me, free on the open road, Elena a distant memory. Klaus applauds my disappearance. Everybody leaves me alone. I mean logically, if all I have to live with is a gaping hole in my chest for all of eternity then sign me up - because right now feels a hell of lot worse.

I don't know how long I stand there trying to breathe in, breathe out, but eventually I hear a window slam shut upstairs, and I know they've gotten off the roof and are now in Elena's bedroom. I feel a little stir of jealously - her bedroom always felt like our place. And not in that sexy kind of way, not at all. If I were to only reach out with my thumb to brush a piece of flint off that girl's face she'd scream '_RAPE_' all the way back to St. Stefan's house. Ah, Stef. Patron Saint of the Chaste, Defender of the Virginal Non-Virgins. That's my Ele - no, fuck again. That's his Elena.

I can't make out what they're saying - partly because I don't want to - but I figure it's not anything I'd want to hear anyway.

"Oh Stefan, I want to be with you forever!"

"Oh Elena!"

"Oh, Stefan!"

Oh! Oh! Oh!

I groan in disgust at my fabricated conversation. I need some friends.

A foot slaps hard against the kitchen floor and I jump - yes, I fucking jump - at the sound. My heart plummets down to my toes and then shoots up my throat when I see who it is.

Note to self: Don't get lost in thought making up funny things Elena and Stefan may or may not be saying to each other because _she_ will sneak up on you.

Elena is different levels of 'hot' all put-out and disturbed that I'm lurking down here in her kitchen, breaking her cutting boards whilst breaking my heart. Damn.

Elena flicks her hair and juts out her fat bottom lip, looking very freshly kissed, and pouts. "Damon, it's time for you to leave."

"Why?" I cock my head and widen my eyes, "Having a vampire honeymoon night up there with Stefan? Don't want me to..._hear_?" My lips curl up in a delicious smile when I see the way her prim little figure shudders with repulse. Yeah, her mind hasn't changed one bit about me at all.

"Just," she runs fingers through her hair, and tussles it out, "I need to be with Stefan. Tonight. I'm - I'm a little scared," she breaks into that breathy laugh I adore - Wait, check that, I used to adore. I adored it before she got a little too invested in her shitty decisions. "And I would appreciate it if you'd understand that. If you'd go."

"Where is Stefan?" I wonder out loud, because let's face it, I'm not really listening to her right now. I'm listening to the sound of blood coursing through my veins, pumping my dead heart in an angry, irritable tone. Every fiber in my body is protesting leaving because I know what will happen if I do.

"Upstairs." Elena answers quickly, because she knows Stefan can hear, and of course she wouldn't want to say the wrong thing. "He thought it might be best if I came down here and asked you. Like maybe you would listen but that's - that's stupid." She laughs again, looking very unsure of herself, her eyes traveling across the room - anywhere but me.

Hmm. This is new. This is different. There's something about her.

_Doubt._

"Are you doubting yourself, Elena?" I tap my chin with my finger as I start walking towards her. Oh, god. There it is. A hitch in her breath, a faint flush in her undead cheeks. She very nearly smells the same. Almost like... _before_. it's nice. The closer I get, the more curious she becomes. Something flickers dimly beneath her eyes, beneath the _Stefan AM/FM Radio _that goes on in there day and night.

Fuck. I'd completely forgotten how high one's libido soars when you're a vampire. I always knew Elena was attracted to me back then, but now, this is a whole different ball game.

And we both realize it.

Our tension. It's incredible.

This ship is two seconds from going down and I will gladly burn every bolt, rivet and plank to the ground if it earns me one moment, one_ second_, with the Elena that's mine. The_ real_ Elena.

"Why don't you run up to your little Stefan and I'll make myself _scarce_?" I taught her, testing the waters. I refrain from reaching out to touch her - she'll ghost away for sure. Elena bites her bottom lip.

She should be offended, but she's not.

She should have left, but she hasn't.

She opens her mouth, to say something, anything, and for one delicious second I think that I've got her. It's a small prize to see her so clearly fighting with her feelings, but hell, it's my prize to take.

"I -"

"_Elena_," I roll my eyes and move about five feet away from Elena once as I hear Captain Buzzkill descending the stairs. Looks like he decided to join our little conversation, after all.

Stefan walks at a normal, human pace, probably to keep things urgent and leisurely. Leisurely, my ass. The room is electric. All eyes on me.

Stefan takes one hand from his pockets and scratches the back of his head. I raise my eyebrows, surprised his fingers don't get stuck in the 5 inch thick layer of gel he applies every morning. Captain Hero, wearing the face that suggests he needs more fiber in his diet, the hair gel that just won't quit, and is the biggest advocate of Woman's Choices ever.

I know this because Elena is a woman and he does everything she says. Everything. Like, let-Elena-die-because-she-said-so everything.

"Damon," he nods at me, his eyes hard. Oh Christ. I've gotten in the way of him and getting laid again. I think he may be attempting to kill me with that heroic, chivalrous stare of his. It's the kind of stare that suggests: "I'm that scary, so I'm just going to kill you with a polite look."

I cannot imagine why Elena loves looking into his eyes so much.

"Brother," I jerk my head at him, "I get it, I get it, I'll go now." I pop my clenched fists open and give them a little good-hearted jazz hand. Fun's over for me, because I really have to go now, to preserve what little dignity we all have left between us. I can't throw a fit like a five year old in this kitchen. The elephant in this room has shitted all over this establishment and I am not about to stay to clean it up.

"Thank you," Stefan simply assents, "I'll call you in the morning, and we can discuss where to go from here -"

"Oh," I'm already headed for the door as fast as I can, _six more steps to go, and then you can crumple in despair outside the house if you have to. _ "I think you two will be busy, hmm? A little morning se-"

"Damon!" Elena says it so harshly I stop mid-sentence.

Silence.

"Oh my," I open the door like I don't _care. _Like I'm 15 again and sassing everyone. "I've made it awkward now."

"You'd better go," Stefan, ever the Saint, gently prods me in the back as if I'm still that same, bothersome 15 year old, and, well, he may be right about that.

I make a sound of pure disgust as I walk out the door, seeing Stefan wrap a shy arm around Elena's shoulder, kissing her forehead as they begin to shake.

I know why they're shaking. And it's not because she's embarrassed I brought up some morning delight. It's not because she's overwhelmed with adoration for Stefan, either. Or just plain crying because she hates me so much.

Elena Gilbert is crying because she doesn't want to go through with it. She's living a white lie. A huge white lie that screws up everyone's day because the lie is the center of the universe and if she were to destroy that balance everything would be too awkward for any of us to handle.

Elena doesn't want Stefan with her tonight.

Maybe she doesn't even want me.

But it's enough.

This time, Elena has to learn the hard way.

Like, Stefan being hard way.

I stifle a hysterical laugh at the idea.

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